Colours of our Hearts
by Lanthiriel25
Summary: In the midst of a normal morning full of happiness and banter, Tish receives some upsetting news in the mail. Priestly takes the day off work at the grill to cheer her up, and make some new, happy memories together. (Set a few months after 'Now and Forever'. However, you don't need to have read 'Now and Forever' to understand this one.)


Summary: Tish receives some upsetting news in the mail. Priestly takes the day off work at the grill to cheer her up, making some new, happy memories together. Set a few months after 'Now and Forever'. (You don't need to have read this story to understand this one, just know that Priestly and Tish are married, and in 'Now and Forever' Priestly was badly injured in a hit and run.)

Warnings: Some mild swearing. Reference to past injuries. Shameless flirting. Excessive fluff.

Disclaimer: Writing belongs to me. Everything else belongs to the writers/producers/makers of Ten Inch Hero. For entertainment purposes only. 'Money for Nothing' belongs to Dire Straits and their production company. Inspiration for the Dire Straits scene came from an episode of 'Miranda'.

AN: I love writing Priestly and Tish; they are such a wonderful couple and I wish we got to see more of their relationship developing in the film itself. For me, they are truly a 'forever' couple, so committed to each other and so in love. Hope you enjoy. Reviews are very much appreciated. :)

* * *

Colours of our Hearts

_By Lanthiriel25_

Tish could feel the sweat plastering the wayward strands of hair from her messy bun to the back of her neck as she rounded the corner, catching sight of hers and Priestly's home. Putting in one last burst of energy, her breath heavy, her feet stomping rhythmically on the ground, she pushed her muscles hard as she sprinted to the imaginary finish line. Reaching their driveway she stopped, checking her watch before bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath and feeling her heart, which pounded in her chest, beginning to slow gradually. Unscrewing the cap on her half-full bottle of water she quickly gulped down the cooling, refreshing liquid, before beginning her post-workout stretches.

The dawnlight and the emptiness of the streets gave Santa Cruz a calm, peaceful feel, which disappeared with the sun as the tourists bustled around, preparing to visit the beach and the curio shops, and the Santa Cruz residents began to get ready for the day. Tish loved the early morning time, almost as much as she hated having to drag herself out of bed to enjoy it as she went for her daily run. Priestly always laughed at her moaning and groaning every morning when her alarm broke through the darkness, as she cursed the world and everyone in it at having to leave the warm, comfortable bed she shared with her husband.

Stretching out her quads, one hand resting on the cool metal of Priestly's truck to balance herself, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles worked hard, Tish couldn't help but smile as she remembered the time she'd persuaded Priestly to join her on a run. Although 'tricked' would be more accurate, Tish mused, as she shifted her position to stretch out her calves, remembering Priestly's pout as he realised what he'd accidentally agreed to. They'd been playing a video game, both perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes glued to the screen, controllers clutched tight in their grips, fingers flying over the buttons. Priestly had won yet another race and had been taunting her, crowing over his victory and how she would never beat him. Tish had countered that he would be eating her dust in an actual real-life race any day of the week, to which Priestly had replied, "Bring it on, slow poke!"

The following morning Tish had pulled him out of bed with her, exchanging embarrassing smack-talk with her husband as they'd both dressed and quickly warmed-up, ready to go. Just because Priestly didn't run most certainly did not mean he was unfit; he swam and surfed, and he had a collection of weights in the closet which got pulled out from time to time, not to mention the heavy lifting he did on a weekly basis on delivery days. He didn't have a routine or train like Tish did; his work-outs were more incidental, either through work and doing something he simply enjoyed doing for the sake of itself.

Tish couldn't remember the last time she'd had that much fun on a jog. They'd been evenly matched for the majority of the route, almost forgetting they were competing after a few blocks, simply falling into step with each other, an easy rhythm between them, reflecting the fact that even before they were dating and got married they were always in tune with one another. Piper had always marvelled in her first days at the grill at how they frequently threw things to each other in the grill, aprons, menus, small utensils, sometimes not even looking at the other as they did so, but they always always caught what was being thrown. It was like they had an intrinsic connection with the other, instinctively knowing where the other was and trusting that instinct without even realising what they were doing.

Time had flown by on the jog as they'd chatted about nothing in particular, enjoying watching the world go by together. On the last stretch of concrete however they had both remembered the competition, Tish glancing at Priestly with a smirk, a wicked glint in her eye, as she burst forward into the last stretch, striding out, leaving Priestly lagging slightly behind.

"Oh no, you don't!" Priestly had exclaimed, his competitive streak coming out full throttle.

He'd launched himself in her wake, eyes trained on his wife's back as he gained on her. Despite his best efforts he'd known he wouldn't quite be able to reach their driveway before her, and he'd known he would never be able to live it down if he lost. He'd mentally groaned and had given one last push of speed, catching up with Tish mere metres from the agreed finish line. He'd scooped his arms round her waist from behind, lifting her clean off the ground as she'd squealed in indignation. Dropping her down behind him, his way now clear to the finish line, Priestly had taken his last couple of steps. Despite feeling Tish's fingers reaching out to grasp at the back of his slightly damp t-shirt, trying to pull him back, Priestly had reached their truck, effectively winning the race, arms raised high, laughing in celebration. Needless to say, Tish had been less than pleased with Priestly's underhand tactics, punching him not-so-gently in the shoulder with a fierce look, stalking into the house and spending so long in the shower that Priestly had had to make do with a freezing cold one.

Taking one last swig of water, Tish finished up her stretches as she remembered how she hadn't been able to stay annoyed at her husband for long, especially when he'd cooked her her favourite meal that night, grudgingly admitted that the victory should in fact have been hers, and then suggested another type of workout which he would most definitely let her win. One look at her husband's somehow cheeky yet smouldering gaze from across the table and she'd crumbled, allowing him to kiss her soundly before they'd made their way into their bedroom, Tish kicking the door closed behind them.

Realising she'd been lingering in her driveway for longer than her usual stretches required, Tish pulled herself back to the present. She quickly snatched up her bottle from where she'd perched it on the truck's hood and made her way inside, shaking her head to herself as she realised that Priestly never failed to distract her and make her lose time. They'd been married for over a year and a half now and he still made her heart skip and breath catch. Suddenly feeling his absence, missing him like she would a physical piece of her heart, she quickly opened the door, desperate to bury herself in his chest and feel his arms wrapped around her. Tish huffed ruefully through her smile as she closed the front door behind her. When had she become such a sap?!

* * *

Priestly shifted slightly, unconsciously kicking the covers a little further down his legs; he was on the wrong side of a little too warm thanks to the fast-approaching summer heat and the fact that he was spooned up behind his wife, arm looped over her waist, face buried in her hair, breathing in the fresh scent. Snuggling closer, Priestly breathed out, unaware that his action caused a small smile to tug at his wife's sleeping lips as he let himself be pulled deeper into unconsciousness, content to stay exactly where he was forever. Far too soon however Priestly was startled from sleep by Tish's ungodly alarm tone. He could feel Tish begin to shift, grumbling quietly to herself as she did so, moving to worm her way out of his embrace. Too comfortable and enjoying having Tish in his arms, Priestly stubbornly tightened his hold, not letting her go.

"Priestly!" Tish whined, her sleep-rough voice lacking in any real conviction, clearly also wanting to stay cocooned under the sheets with her husband.

"Stay," Priestly mumbled through the darkness, eyes still closed, the world still fuzzy round the edges as he brushed her hair away from her neck, pressing a feather-light kiss into the delicate skin at the top of her spine.

Tish sighed, relaxing for a moment into the touch, before groaning and wiggling herself out of her husband's grasping arms.

"Can't," she countered.

Never let it be said that she didn't have a strong will-power, Tish thought wryly as Priestly huffed, flopping over onto his front, forearms folding under the pillow, face buried in the soft material as he tried to make himself comfortable again. Tish let her gaze linger fondly on Priestly's dim outline through the dark before deciding to start to get ready for her run, otherwise the whole endeavour would have been pointless.

Priestly listened, half-aware, as Tish stumbled around the room, gathering up her clothes before heading to the bathroom for her morning shower. A shaft of light sliced through the darkened bedroom as she returned, throwing her pyjamas onto her pillow before rounding the bed to where Priestly was happily dozing. Priestly smiled contentedly as he felt the soft press of Tish's lips to his temple as she scratched her fingers gently, briefly, through his natural, ruffled hair. He was brought to full awareness though as Tish turned to leave, smacking his boxer-clad backside as she went. Priestly yelped in surprise, jerking up, blindly throwing his pillow at his wife's retreating back as she cackled as she ducked her way out of the room. It was a stupid move however, Priestly realised, now having no pillow to go back to sleep on. He grumpily reached out for Tish's but it was now cold, not sleep-warm and cosy like his was, and he was more awake than asleep now anyway, so he might as well get up, he decided.

"See you a bit!" Tish called cheerfully just before she pulled the door closed behind her.

Priestly blinked blearily at the noise, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he carefully sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, before making his way to the bathroom. It took him a while to notice, his sleep-fuzzed brain still not up to full speed yet, but he felt a warm smile twitch at the corner of his mouth, a glowing in his chest, as he read the message Tish had written in the condensation on the mirror above the sink, complete with smiley face.

_Love you, dork-face!_

Suddenly feeling much more awake and ready to face the day, Priestly quickly washed, styled, dressed and made his way into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the pair of them, ready for when Tish was back. Priestly hummed to himself as he worked, but quickly decided the apartment was too quiet. Vaulting himself over the sofa, he casually flicked through his CD collection, pulling one from the pile and putting it in the player, cranking up the volume. As the first notes of the Dire Straits 'Brothers in Arms' album pulsed out from the speakers , Priestly continued with breakfast, body twitching to the rhythm of the music, singing along every now and again as he concentrated on preparing the pancake mix. Today was going to be a good day, he decided with a smile as the notes crescendoed. His beautiful wife would be back soon, the wife who teased him, laughed with him, and left him notes on the bathroom mirror, they were both on the later shift at the grill so they could afford to have a leisurely, sit-down breakfast together, and he would be able to work side by side with Tish and all their friends at the grill later on, something which he always enjoyed. Yes, Priestly decided, head bopping to the beat. Definitely a good day.

* * *

Tish leant against the doorframe, arms folded and eyebrows raised in amusement at the sight which greeted her. Priestly had clearly finished cooking, the utensils piled up next to the sink ready to wash up, the dim light glowing from the oven door, telling Tish that Priestly had slid their plates of food inside to keep warm until she got back. But her husband wasn't doing the washing up though. Not even close. Tish smirked as the synths at the beginning of 'Money for Nothing' merged into drums and she watched her husband, spatula in one hand, wooden spoon in the other, eyes closed, foot stomping to the beat as he played his imaginary drum kit, kitchen utensils flying skilfully through the air, gripped expertly in his hands. Tish grinned as the famous guitar riff began. The spatula and spoon where thrown aside with a clatter and Priestly leapt across the room, up onto the sofa where he stood one foot on the cushions, the other braced against the arm rest. Not having noticed Tish standing in the doorway, gleefully watching his actions, he began playing air guitar like a pro, switching to playing an imaginary drum kit again, before returning back to air guitar as the music required. His head was banging to the beat of the song, his back muscles rippling under his t-shirt as he moved, his whole body alight with the notes that thrummed through the apartment from their small speakers.

It was so Priestly; hilarious and yet so endearing. Tish felt her chest swell with emotion even as laughter threatened to escape her at the sight of her husband bouncing around the room like a child, lost in the music. But that was one of the things she loved so much about him. The fact that he could find such enjoyment in the simplest of things, getting excited and enthusiastic about everything just like a child would, eyes bright and dancing as he goes through life, wanting to see and experience everything it has to offer, his personality and enthusiasm as bright and bold as his hair and clothes. This side to him contrasted sharply with the more cynical, dry humour which Priestly also owned, but it was all mixed together in such a way that it made perfect sense to Tish. It was who he was, and she loved him for it.

Unable to keep quiet any longer, Tish cleared her throat loudly, pointedly, smiling widely, eyebrows raised almost impossibly high. Priestly whirled around in shock, frozen in place on his make-shift be-cushioned stage, expression not unlike a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Um, hi," Priestly smiled self-consciously, light blush staining his cheeks at being caught, as he jerked into motion, dropping his arms to his sides, invisible guitar disappearing from sight, as he jumped off the sofa and scrambled across to the music system to quickly turn the now almost ear-splitting volume down. "I was just…"

Priestly trailed off, eyes darting round the room, before shrugging self-deprecatingly.

"Don't stop on my account, drummer-boy," Tish teased with a wink, as she approached him, stretching up on tiptoes to drop a quick peck on his cheek. "Just don't quit your day job!"

"Hey!" Priestly protested. "I'm an expert musician, I'll have you know! I'd give Mark Knopfler a run for his money any day of the week; they'd be begging to have me in the band!"

Tish rolled her eyes as she deposited her drink on the kitchen table, kicking off her trainers.

"Well I have some choice recordings from Trucker's last birthday party that say otherwise," Tish countered, pulling her hair tie out, shaking her hair to let it loose, slipping the tie around her wrist for safe keeping.

Priestly spluttered indignantly, as he made to join his wife in the kitchen area, stumbling awkwardly over a cushion he'd knocked from the sofa during his 'performance' as he did so. He reached out to catch himself from falling, hand gripping the arm rest. Barely missing a beat, he righted himself, puffing himself up to challenge his wife about the fact that she'd promised to delete all evidence of his karaoke shame.

Tish couldn't help the spike of worry that went through her at his inconsequential trip, the instinctive reflexes she'd honed during the time when he'd been recovering from his accident clearly lingering inside of her. She knew that he barely felt more than a whisper of a twinge every now and again if he moved a little awkwardly, but reflex had her starting forward, hand reaching out to steady him and support him if he needed her help. Realising what she'd done, wanting to mask her reaction, she instead bent to pick up the offending cushion, replacing it back on the sofa, before turning once to meet Priestly's protests with a wide smile.

"Girl's gotta have her blackmail material, you know," Tish countered sweetly, trapping Priestly chin between her fingers tauntingly.

Priestly smacked her hand away with a scowl.

"Go and shower, woman. You stall much longer and I'm eating your breakfast as well as my own!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Tish replied, eyes narrowed in threat.

"Try me!" winked Priestly, challenge clear in his voice.

Husband and wife glared at each other, sizing each other up, before Tish quickly realised Priestly was most likely not bluffing and hurried into the bathroom, not wanting Priestly to make good on his threat.

* * *

Priestly was sorting through their mail as Tish returned to the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and a camisole, she pulled her hair over her shoulder, enveloping her long locks in the faded towel, squeezing out the worst of the excess moisture. Slinging the towel over her shoulder, content to let the rest of her hair dry naturally, she began to set the table for their breakfast, skimming her fingers along Priestly's belt as she passed.

"Anything good?" she asked as she collected the cutlery from the drawer, nodding her head at the letters in Priestly grip when he turned to her.

"Oh, nothing much. Mainly junk mail. There's this one for you though. Handwritten. I don't recognise the writing."

Tish frowned as she closed the drawer, reaching out to take the letter Priestly was holding out to her. She hardly ever got any post that wasn't a bill; who would be writing to her? Glancing up at Priestly, she slid passed him, walking into the living room to open the envelope as Priestly finished her abandoned task of setting their table.

Priestly watched as Tish turned her back to him slightly, finger sliding underneath the join, ripping open the envelope and pulling out the single sheet of paper inside. Giving her the small level of privacy she clearly wanted, Priestly focused on his task, pulling out the fruit juice from the fridge to go with their meal of bacon, eggs and pancakes.

"You want coffee as well as your juice?" Priestly asked distractedly as he retrieved two glasses and poured out Tish's portion.

"I made some fresh while you were in the shower. You want some? Tish?"

Priestly's question was met with silence. Thinking she might have disappeared into the bedroom whilst he wasn't paying attention, Priestly turned to check. He frowned as he saw the envelope flutter to the ground from Tish's fingers, his wife sinking heavily, wordlessly, to the couch, eyes fixed on the letter she gripped in her hands, clearly oblivious to the world around her. The line of her shoulders was all wrong, her muscles tense, Priestly could see that even from his vantage point in the kitchen. Something was wrong. Quickly setting down the juice jug, Priestly hurried to his wife's side, worry thrumming through him.

"Tish?"

Tish was staring at the page, eyes unmoving, hands trembling slightly making the paper shake minutely. Priestly swallowed, moving to slowly kneel down in front of his wife, not wanting to startle her but also wanting to gain her attention and find out what had her so upset. He gently placed a hand on her knee.

"Tish? Sweetheart? Talk to me? What's wrong?"

Tish slowly sucked in a breath, lifting her chin to look at her husband. Priestly's heart clenched as he saw the sheen of tears glazing across Tish's wide, sorrowful eyes. Wordlessly Tish held out the letter. Studying his wife's stricken face for a moment longer, Priestly carefully took the paper, eyes quickly scanning the words.

"Oh, Tish. I'm sorry," he breathed, once he'd finished reading.

Setting aside the letter, Priestly pushed himself onto the sofa next to her, wrapping her up in his arms. Tish turned her body towards him, sliding her arms around him in return, pulling herself as close to him as she could manage, her head resting on his chest. She couldn't believe it. The letter was from her mother, whom she hadn't heard from since Priestly and she were married. They weren't close but it didn't make receiving an overly polite, detached letter, of all things, telling her that her parents were getting divorced, any easier to deal with. A thirty-five year marriage ended, just like that, finished, for good; she couldn't wrap her head around it. Her parents, even if they didn't lavish her with attention, they certainly made up for it with the devotion they appeared to have for each other. It didn't make any sense.

Priestly held his shell-shocked wife against him, thumb stroking softly, calmly, over a patch of skin on her arm where he held her.

"Do you want to go out there? Go and see them? I could take some time off, come with you."

"I…"

Tish bit her lip, thinking about Priestly's offer, before shaking her head decisively, scattering tiny water droplets from the tips of her hair as she did so. Even thinking about seeing her parents twisted her up inside, a weird, heavy mix of anger and nerves; she didn't think she could bear seeing them now, even given the news, not after everything.

It wasn't that she didn't love her parents; she did. It was just, they had never been close. They'd been so focused on each other and their careers when she was growing up that she barely ever saw them, being raised instead by her aunt whom she loved more than she could say. Sure, they threw her extravagant birthday parties and came to her school graduation but they barely knew their daughter and Tish hardly knew them. Tish remembered how she'd watch through the banisters as her mom and dad bustled around in a flurry of fancy clothes and rich smelling perfume, getting ready for the latest fundraiser or social event, face pressed against the wooden bars, watching her mom's jewellery dance in the light, concentrating on the sparkles they left behind, not the sound of the door closing as they left, without more than a cursory blown-kiss and a 'be good, sweetie'. But she didn't mind; that was just the way things were. Tish knew there were much worse things in life than parents who were too busy to spend time with their daughter. She had Aunt Janey, who loved her with everything she had, who read her stories, taught her how to roller-blade, patched up her bumps and bruises, took her on trips out every weekend, attended her dolls' tea-parties when she was small and gossiped with her about boys in her class when was older. She knew she had the best aunt ever, her house feeling more her home than her parents'.

She'd been hurt though when they'd refused her invitation to hers and Priestly's wedding; she'd thought her getting married would have been important enough for her parents to take a break from their busy schedule. But no, they hadn't come. Tish had been crushed, the invitation and photograph she'd sent of her and Priestly alongside her letter, had been sent back, along with their polite refusal. Her sadness that her parents wouldn't be there for her special day quickly turned to anger however when she'd phoned her mother a week later to try and persuade them to come. It wasn't that they were busy, her mom had explained distractedly; they would have cleared their schedule for their daughter's wedding, of course they would. It was just, they did not approve of her choice of husband. That night, Priestly had been greeted by a furious Tish, hair sticking up in all directions, having spent the afternoon pacing and running her hands through her brown locks. He'd listened for hours as she'd ranted about her bigoted parents; how could they judge someone they'd never met? They hadn't ever spoken a single word to Priestly, how could they possible know whether or not he was good enough for her!? If they had taken the time, they would see that _he_ was too good for _her_! But they were too stupid to see that. She'd vowed she wasn't going to let them ruin hers and Priestly's special day; she didn't want them there if that's how they felt in any case, so it was all for the best. It was. Really.

So no, she didn't want to go and see them. But despite the fact that they'd dismissed her own marriage she couldn't find it in herself to do the same to them; Tish couldn't deny the sadness she felt at hearing that their marriage was over. They were her parents and despite everything she loved them; memories of her childhood were good ones, if not sometimes a little lonely. Glancing once more at the letter, written in her mother's hand, she felt her lip begin to quiver. Marriages break down every day, she knew that, but the thought hurt so much more now that she was married. She couldn't imagine ever falling out of love with Priestly but it obviously happened and the thought terrified her. What if she all of a sudden woke up one morning and just simply didn't love him anymore? The thought seemed so implausible, impossible, to her, but it wasn't like people planned to drift apart. Her next thought worried her more though, sent terrified chills jolting through her. What if something happened and Priestly didn't love her anymore? What if she did something to make him hate her, leave her?

She clutched more tightly at Priestly's shirt and buried herself further into his embrace, holding on as hard as she could, as if terrified he would disappear right before her eyes. She practically whimpered when Priestly tried to detach himself from her grip, clinging on to him tighter. She knew she was behaving like a child, letting her irrational fears cloud her better judgment but she couldn't help it.

Sensing the worry and the hurt which radiated from his wife in thick waves, Priestly kissed the top of her head gently, soothing her worries away his simple gesture.

"I'll be right back. Just going to switch off the oven," he explained. "Let me just grab the phone too, I'm gonna call us in sick today. We can have the day just for us, okay?"

Tish sniffled and nodded, sitting back reluctantly to let him off the sofa.Taking a deep breath, she scrubbed her hands over her face, roughly wiping away the tears, ordering herself not to let this get to her, but she couldn't help it. She listened to the one-sided conversation Priestly was having in the kitchen, phone trapped between his shoulder and his ear as he let Trucker know they wouldn't be in and apologising for the short notice. Reaching out to the coffee table, she snagged a clean tissue, blowing her nose harshly, before tossing it into the wicker bin by the sofa. She tried not to think about what she would do if Priestly ever left her but the what-ifs were assaulting her brain from all sides, each scenario more heart-breaking than the last. She couldn't bear even the thought of it; when they'd shared their vows, exchanged their silver rings, inked each other's skin, her heart had become Priestly's, totally and completely; if they were no longer together, she knew the hole in chest would never be healed.

"So, what do you wanna do today?" Priestly asked as he returned to her, settling down beside her once again, scooping her into his arms and holding her close.

He gently rocked them both, a comforting, soothing gesture Tish wasn't sure he even realised he was making.

"We could go down to the boardwalk and eat until we throw up, or we could take a drive to nowhere in particular, run outta gas and then have to walk home. That could be fun. Or… Oh! I know, we could go visit that traumatising, nightmare-inducing carnival two towns over, the one Piper recommended so highly after her visit with Noah and the munchkin. We could hide in the House of Horrors and scare the workers; if they get off scaring tiny children, it's only fair someone takes a turn in scaring the crap outta them, whaddya say?!"

Tish felt her heart getting lighter with every suggestion which left her husband's mouth, a surprised laugh escaping at Priestly last idea. She could clearly imagine Priestly doing just that, revelling in the terrified screams of the gangly teenagers earning a summer wage and the laughter of the children as their tormentors ran away in fright. Despite her ease in imagining such an event, she knew her husband was only joking, hoping to cheer her up and distract her from the unpleasant thoughts flitting around her brain. She shifted in his grip, realising happily that his efforts were working perfectly.

Threading her fingers through his, where he was now softly, absently, stroking the warm skin of her tattoo, she realised that all his suggestions involved the both of them and that warmed her heart. He wanted to spend time with her, cheer her up, chase away her worries and fears, making some new, happy memories as a couple, and Tish couldn't think of anything she'd rather do than spend the day, just her and Priestly, having fun, enjoying each other's company. A day to celebrate them, to relax, to forget about the fact that the parents were separating and all the emotions that conjured up. After a couple of minutes thinking, Priestly's fingers now skimming gently up and down her arm as she did so, an idea came to her.

"You still got those paint cans from when we redid the bathroom?" Tish queried, twisting in Priestly arms to look at him.

"Yeah," he nodded, his brow furrowed slightly. "I think so. Somewhere. Why?"

"Well, we were talking about redecorating the bedroom, a few months back. You remember? Can we do that today?"

"Sure, we can," Priestly agreed with a wide smile. "As long as I can remember where I put the damn things."

* * *

Priestly was busy throwing some old sheets over the furniture in their room so they wouldn't get paint everywhere and ruin their belongings. Priestly huffed in annoyance, trying to gather up the king sized sheet and arrange it properly over their bed, not wanting to get paint all over the duvet and cushions. All he really achieved was to get himself more tangled, not helped by the fact that the sheet had some slashes through it from where it had been stored with some of the sharper tools, which Priestly kept getting his hand or foot caught in as he worked.

"You need some help with that?" Tish asked wryly as she appeared in the doorway, her hands busy tying her bandana around her head to keep her hair away from her face.

Tish was all ready to get started, kitted out in a set of old clothes which she kept for occasions such as these. She was barefoot, toes peeking out from the faded hem of her faded, baggy and ripped set of dungarees. Under her dungarees she wore an old t-shirt which she'd managed to accidentally dye pale pink in the washing machine before also managing to shrink it in the dryer. Laundry was an acquired skill, she'd learnt.

"Nah, I got it," Priestly assured, his voice slightly muffled, from where he'd draped some of the sheet over his head as he tried to find the opposite corner.

"Yeah, I can see that!"

Seeing how his fourth attempt was a lost cause, resigning himself to a fifth, Priestly dropped his handful of sheet and flipped Tish off. Tish retaliated by sticking her tongue out in return before crouching down by the paint cans and pouring some of each into the different palettes, setting out the paint brushes and rollers for each. Lip caught in her teeth, Tish glanced up at the wall, trying to decide what colour would look best.

Standing up, hands on her hips, head tilted slightly to one side, thinking, Tish jumped as Priestly suddenly appeared behind her, making stupid, childish noises. Spinning on the spot she laughed out loud, seeing Priestly standing there, having apparently given up on protecting their bed, instead throwing the sheet over his own head and body, arms held out wide. Tish shook her head. How was Priestly so adorable? She wondered how many sheets he had ruined during his younger years, pretending to be a ghost, just like he was now. She could only imagine what he must have looked like as a child, playing dress up, trying to make his friends laugh, spending hours creating costumes for Trick or Treating, or someone's fancy dress party.

Lunging for Tish and misjudging completely, thanks to not begin able to see, Priestly began to stumble around the room, arms waving and grabbing. Tish danced just out of his reach, laughing and squealing as she went, carefully hopping over the paint cans and palettes.

"Get away from me, you weirdo!" she giggled. "This isn't an episode of Scooby Doo!"

"Ooooooh! Spooky ghost's gonna get you! Ooooooh!" Priestly countered, continuing to blindly chase his wife around the room, following her voice since he couldn't see. His heart warmed at hearing her exclamations and laughter, his task of chasing away her sadness having already begun. Getting lucky, he managed to snag her arm, wrapping his own sheet-clad arms around her, trapping her.

"Hey! Priestly! God, you're such a dork!"

"But I'm your dork, baby!" Priestly smiled, voice teasing, walking them backwards slightly as he let Tish pull the sheet from his head.

Tish reached up, rearranging his spiked 'hawk where it had gotten somewhat bent by Priestly fooling around, before running her fingers lightly down the side of his face, tapping his cheek sharply, causing him to huff.

"Save it, crazy-face! We got some painting to do."

"We sure do," Priestly smirked, eyes glinting with mischief.

Suddenly trapping Tish's chin between his fingers, he proceeded to slowly, deliberately, paint a pale green stripe all the way down her nose, his face smirking as he did so. Tish fought her instinctive reaction of pulling away or making a fuss, simply glaring right back and letting him finish, plotting her counter-move. She didn't know how Priestly had managed to get his hands on a paint-brush so quickly without her noticing but it wasn't a mistake she planned on making again.

Throwing a taunting smirk his way, she turned behind her, every move calculated, picking up a paint brush of her own.

"You know," she said calmly, pushing Priestly back against the wall. "Two can play at this game."

"Oh, bring it on, baby," Priestly challenged.

Without a second's hesitation Tish dragged her brush across Priestly jawline, leaving a dripping line of orange in her wake.

"So, it's gonna be like that, huh?" Priestly mused, reaching out for the purple palette, retaliation clear in his eyes. He pressed his whole hand into the viscous paint in the flat dish, before reaching out and dragging his purple fingers across his wife's cheek.

"Hate you," Tish deadpanned.

"Sure, you do," Priestly acknowledged as he threw the palette aside, retrieving instead an entire can of paint.

Seeing his intentions as he dipped the thick brush into the paint, Tish's eyes narrowed before bursting into action. Tish squealed as she ran from him as he flicked paint in her direction, sending droplets flying through the air, landing on the protective sheets and dotting Tish's back and arm as she didn't quite manage to twist out of range in time. Arming herself with her own can, Tish scooped up a fistful of paint, the excess oozing through her fingers, before she flung the paint in Priestly's direction, speckling his skin as well as the wall behind him. Priestly dove out of the way as much as he could to avoid the paint shower but he stumbled over some stray cans and went flying into the wall. He threw out his hands to catch himself, not wanting to land face first into the plaster, feeling the soft squelch of paint beneath his palm. Freezing, he turned to look at Tish over his shoulder, a guilty look etched into his features. He turned back to the wall, carefully getting his feet under him and slowly, carefully, pulling his hand away, revealing the large, purple handprint now decorating their wall.

"Look what you did!" Tish exclaimed, shocked yet amused; only her husband could end up finger-painting whilst decorating their wall.

"We can paint over it?" Priestly tried sheepishly.

"I call a penalty," demanded Tish.

"Take your best shot!" Priestly countered defiantly, his meekness disappearing in an instant at Tish's challenge and the fact that she didn't seem all that upset about him potentially ruining their wall. He adopted a battle-ready stance, paint brush and can at the ready.

Ten minutes later, paint flying in all directions, haphazardly decorating the floor, staining the wall and each other, they both tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, laughing and panting. Tish landed on top of her husband, arms braced on either side of head to prevent herself from head-butting him and giving them both a bruise. Her face was mere inches from Priestly's however, his sparkling, mirthful gaze catching hers.

"Surrender?" Tish breathed, steadying herself on one hand as she reached up with the other to gently wipe at the paint smear across his cheek.

"Never," he teased as he lifted his head off the carpet slightly to catch her mouth in a feather-light brush of lips.

Melting into his embrace, Tish chased his touch as he rested his head back to the floor, dropping to her elbows, forearms bracketing his head, fingers tangling in his hair as she leant down to steal a kiss of her own. She shivered as his arms tightened around her lower back, holding her close, mind and body rejoicing at having Priestly in her life and that he cared for her so much. That he was able to make all her fears vanish, chase away her worries with a simple, caring touch or just simply being his quirky self, shield her from the world when everything became that little bit too much, surround her so completely with his love that nothing hurt or scared her anymore. She wished she could hide in his arms forever, but she knew that she couldn't. She did know that he would be beside her, supporting her, through everything, however, for always, and that helped her and meant more to her than she could ever say.

With a great amount of effort Tish pulled back, slightly breathless, doing her best to ignore Priestly's soft sound of protest as he chased her lips.

"That wall's not gonna paint itself, you know," Tish teased, laughing at the pout which appeared on her husband's face at her words as she traced her fingers along the edge of the shell of his ear, thumb catching on the cool metal.

"Could do," he protested.

"Or, I could just paint it beige and be done with it," Tish suggested, extricating herself from Priestly's grip, coming to sit just out of his reach on the protective sheet they'd laid down.

"I'll have you know, I've never had a beige room in my life," Priestly countered, seemingly very proud of this fact.

Tish flashed him a smile, causing Priestly to roll his eyes at her from where he still lay prone on the floor, face still scrunched up in a grimace at the thought of such a boring, generic colour choice.

"The first time can be arranged," taunted Tish.

"Jeez," he complained, as he shifted himself from his awkward, twisted position so he was more able to push himself into a sitting position. "Don't you even think abou…"

Priestly's words were suddenly cut off as his breath was harshly ripped from his lungs, a barely-there pained sound escaping his throat as fiery spasms wrapped around his left rib cage, so intense that his vision momentarily whited out. Tish's laughing expression dropped from her face as she saw Priestly's skin drain of colour as he convulsed forward, his own expression twisted into a picture of pure agony.

Priestly felt like his chest was being roasted from the inside out, with shards of splintered glass spiking through the iron band which was constricting his rib cage. One hand instinctively crossing his body to clutch at his ribs, he reached out with the other, blindly seeking out Tish, needing an anchor to get him through the pain which threatened to pull him under as dark spots danced at the edge of his vision.

Tish was by his side in an instant, carefully pulling him to her, bracing him against her body, offering him the support he needed to stay upright and not go crashing back to the unforgiving floor. Tish cradled the back of his head with one hand as he buried his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, arm winding its way round her back, clinging on as if for dear life.

Grasping gratefully at the physical and emotional support his wife so freely offered, Priestly concentrated hard on taking deep breaths to chase away the pain, the air hissing through his clenched teeth as he clutched desperately at the back of Tish's shirt, pressing his forehead harder into her shoulder. His world narrowed to the agony in his chest and his contact with his wife; all he could think was fear and pain and Tish. He wished the fire burning through his muscles would stop; he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt any pain from his accident. He'd thought the last lingering twinges had gone for good, but, he mused wryly, he supposed not. Taking comfort from Tish, burying his face into her shoulder he tried to work through the pain, drawing on her support and strength.

He felt her warm hand snake its way under his shirt, coming to gently rest on his spasming rib cage. He could feel the way her palm was slightly damp from both the residual paint and sweat, hand shaking slightly in the face of his distress, but then she began to gently rub the skin, massaging the bunching, cramping muscles and he felt his breath coming a little easier. Forcing himself to focus only on Tish and her careful ministrations, he felt his muscles gradually relax, the pain receding to a dull ache, relief washing over him in waves as the muscles in his chest began to unwind.

* * *

Tish felt the terror and helplessness coursing through her at unexpectedly seeing Priestly in so much pain. Her eyes blurred but she stubbornly refused to let the tears fall. Priestly had been so strong through his recovery and every day since, in so many ways, a rock for her lean on, and she was damn well going to be the same for him. Pulling up everything she remembered about his injuries and physio during his recovery, Tish frantically tried to think of a way to help Priestly through this.

As she felt Priestly almost slump against her, muscles finally releasing after what seemed like hours, she wound her arms around his back, soothing her palm up and down, giving her husband the time he needed to recover from the onslaught and collect himself. After several minutes like this, Priestly shifted against her, hands loosening their hold on her dungarees, pulling back to rest his forehead against hers.

"You alright?" Tish asked worriedly, ducking her head slightly, cupping his cheek to direct his gaze so she could catch his eye and assess for herself whether the pain had truly gone.

Swallowing thickly, Priestly nodded silently. He took a few more deep, steadying breaths, which Tish was relieved to see did not seem to cause him any undue pain.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," he breathed. Letting out a soft huff, he pulled back a little further, gingerly testing his range of motion. When no new sparks of pain shot through him, Priestly relaxed a little more. "Wow. That was…not fun."

"Does it still hurt?" Tish asked worriedly.

Priestly shook his head. "No, I…" He twisted slightly checking. "No. Seems to be over. No pain at all now. Just feel a bit…"

He shrugged, not quite sure how to explain the feeling, but Tish seemed to understand.

"Maybe we should…?"

"No," Priestly argued, already knowing that Tish was having second thoughts about painting the room together, scared that he might over-exert himself or something, especially given their childish antics. But really she didn't need to worry; he felt ok now and today was all about making her feel better and making some new, happy memories as a couple. He wasn't about to let the ghosts of his accident stop that from happening. Moving to stand up, Tish took his elbow to help him off the floor, steadying him as he found his feet, testing his balance before being satisfied that he really was ok. Noticing the way Tish wrung her hands worriedly in front of her body, almost without realising, Priestly glanced around seeking inspiration to reassure her and make her smile. His gaze snagged on the purple paint smudged across the pristine wall. He smiled to himself, an idea forming.

Priestly bent down, scooping up a paint brush from the floor, swirling it through the yellow paint can before standing up again. Reaching for her, he pulled Tish's hand out, turning it so it was palm upwards, before proceeding to lather it in the thick paint.

"Priestly," Tish frowned, as she watched her hand being painted yellow. "What are you…?"

Her words trailed off as Priestly simply winked at her before going back to work. Despite wanting to make sure he really was ok, maybe get him to at least lay down on the bed for a bit, the way his eyes had smiled at her, bright and deep and true, told her that he wasn't just trying to make her feel better; the pain really had gone, and despite the fact that she was scared at the sudden intensity of the attack, she was beyond happy that it was now over.

Once Priestly had finished, Tish's hand now almost swimming in yellow, he bit the brush handle between his teeth so he could free his hand to guide hers to the wall. He pressed her palm and fingers gently beneath his to create a yellow handprint next to the slightly bigger purple one he'd accidentally left minutes earlier.

Tish glanced, speechless, between the handprints on the wall amidst the splashes of colour from their paint fight and Priestly's face.

"More 'us', don't you think?" Priestly asked softly.

Biting her lip, she considered her husband's question.

"Absolutely," she agreed with a smile, picking up another paint brush and reaching for Priestly's hand.

"Well then, let's get started!"

* * *

They spent the rest of the day decorating their wall, laughing, teasing, joking as they went, singing and dancing like fools along to the songs which blasted out of the music system. Priestly's sudden pain and thoughts of her parents' divorce and her own fears disappearing completely from Tish's mind as she watched Priestly joyfully throw a handful of paint at the wall, carefully reaching up to smudge in some of the colours more artfully. Handprints covered the wall, alongside some doodles and patterns of choice. Broad swathes of colours overlapped and intermingled together across the wall, overlaid with spatterings of paint being both delicately flicked and haphazardly splashed across the surface in equal measure. They worked until their arms ached and all the paint had been used, no colour ignored or left unfinished. The result was bright, garish, and completely personal to them; their laughter, their soft words, their handprints and their love all mixed together to form this unique mural.

* * *

Five hours later and they were both slumped against the drying wall, Tish half lying in Priestly's arms, smile as bright as the colours which painted her clothes and skin. Relaxing into his embrace, Tish felt happier than ever, troubles and fears of the day forgotten, being replaced by the new memories burning happily in her heart and mind. She could feel the paint on her skin, shrinking and cracking, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. Instead the temporary 'tattoos' which decorated her skin felt comforting and reassuring, just as the very real tattoo hidden under her denim gave her hope and reassurance that Priestly was irreversibly a part of life, heart, body and soul.

Priestly carefully manoeuvred his way out from behind her, pushing himself to standing. With a smile, he reached out his hand to her, which she took, allowing her wonderful husband to pull her to her feet. Once she was standing, Priestly tugged her to him, turning her so her back was pressed against his chest, arms wound around her middle, stooping slightly to rest his chin on her shoulder. Leaning back into his touch, Tish enjoyed the warmth of his body seeping into her skin, the heavy press of his belt buckle in the small of her back. Tish lifted her hands, catching Priestly's fingers in hers as they held her to him. Tipping her head back ever so slightly against his chest, Tish couldn't help but smile at the sight before her.

Priestly swayed them both gently, almost subconsciously, pressing a delicate kiss into her neck as they both gazed at the masterpiece they had created together. Instead of the generic, traditional block of colour which decorated walls the world over, their wall was splattered with a rainbow of colours, handprints, splashes, patterns and symbols, all meaning something special to them. The wall told the story of them: their brightness and their energy, their joy and their bantering, their uniqueness and their love. Tish sees her and Priestly in their wall, stained indefinitely into the plaster; the pair of them reflected in the colours, intertwining, overlapping, sometimes clashing and contrasting, but always complementing. Just like Priestly and herself. Some people didn't understand what they had, couldn't understand how they fit together as a couple, certain that they wouldn't last, but Tish knew, beyond all doubt, thanks to the love and reassurance of her husband, that they were indeed for always. For herself, she knew she would always love him, but her mom's letter that morning had made her doubt her husband, doubt what it was he saw in her, but Tish sees them both in their newly-painted wall, their chaotic masterpiece, the colours of their hearts splashed across the plaster for all the world to see, clear and bright and unapologetic. Paints and colours blended and mixed together, irrevocably.

As those thoughts chased themselves pleasantly around her mind, Tish twisted her head as Priestly leant down slightly, sharing a chaste, loving kiss, sparks flickering between them before she turned back to wall once more.

Tish sees them in those colours and shapes, feels it deep within her heart. And she knows.

Her and Priestly…?

They're forever.

* * *

The End

* * *

Thanks for reading – hope you enjoyed! Reviews are much appreciated :)


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